


With Your Last Breath

by novacorpsrecruit



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel Comics, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Last words, M/M, Soulmates, because i enjoy writing angst and can't have anybody happy without Suffering(TM) first, its like a first words soulmate au but it's last words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novacorpsrecruit/pseuds/novacorpsrecruit
Summary: You never know what you have until it’s gone. It was only supposed to be an old saying. It was never supposed to be much more than that. Something to tell a child after he carelessly left his favorite jacket at the park. Or a 2 a.m. drunk text sent to an ex after a bad break-up.Not something to realize when Peter’s words darken: "You think I'm afraid of that?"





	With Your Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to thank johnathan hickman for: (1) for existing and (2) for part of the dialog used in this. Based around Fantastic Four #600 and #601, plus the aftermath of the entire "Forever" arc. Slightly ignoring FF 17 lmao
> 
> everyone is probably a little ooc i just wanted to finish writing this so it gets out of my wip

You never know what you have until it’s gone.

The old saying was only supposed to be that: an old saying. A lesson learned. It was never supposed to be much more than that. Something to tell a child after he carelessly left his favorite jacket at the park. Or a 2 a.m. drunk text sent to an ex after a bad break-up.

Not something to realize when Peter’s words darken.

He remembers the words, once light and faint against the olive of his skin, something he used to carelessly trace on sleepless nights. Words of inspiration during fights when he felt hopeless.

_You think I’m afraid of that?_

“I bet they’re talking about your dick,” Johnny would laugh. “You talk up your dick size so much that you convinced them it was going to be huge. And you let them down. They’re laughing at you.”

“That makes zero sense, Flames-for-brain,” Peter said. “And jokes on you. That means I’m so good in bed, I’m to die for.”

“Don’t brag about that. You’re ruining their image. They died laughing.”

Johnny’s laugh still echoed in his ears, contagiously pulling a soft smile from Peter.

“Maybe they were brave,” Johnny suggested one late night over pizza and an action film that they’ve seen one too many times. His fingers danced above his knee, where Peter knew his own faint-white lettering graced his skin. “Not afraid of death.”

“Maybe,” Peter replied as-matter-of-factly. Peter’s fingers traced his letters, the writing fast but strong across the length of his forearm. He knew his soulmate was brave, laughing at the face of death, but he didn’t know how brave until the letters turned dark. “Or they’re really good at faking it.”

“With you? They have to be,” Johnny smirked. Peter retaliated by throwing his elbow in Johnny’s direction. Johnny laughed, covered his face from Peter’s attack. An explosion on the screen caught their attention, letting the moment pass silently. “Can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I hate knowing,” Johnny said. “I know it’s not … I know I can cover it. Sue says you can just forget the words, pretend they’re not there, but I just … can’t.”

“You’ll want to have it when they’re gone,” Peter said, attention loosely focused on the television. It was something that Aunt May had always said. It hurt for Uncle Ben to leave her, but for his words to be a part of her meant that a piece of him would always be with her. “But I know what you mean. Every time I go through a haunted house, I’m terrified I’m going to lose my –“

“You’re such a prick, you know that?” Johnny laughed.

“Trying to lighten the mood,” Peter said, raised palms exposed to claim his innocence. “Just imagine someone who has ‘Taxi!’ or ‘Can you pass the butter?’ as their last words?”

“I’m just –“ Johnny sighed, running his fingers through his blond locks. “What if I can’t keep the promise?”

The promise. Right. Johnny’s words were about a promise.

_Promise me, you’ll keep them safe._

“You know you will do whatever you can to keep your family safe,” Peter said. “Stop overanalyzing and breathe.”

“I’m overanalyzing?” Johnny said defensively. Peter couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “How do you know it’s about my family? It could be about a school bus of children? The entirety of New York City? Or worse, the United –“

“And I’m the prick?” Peter said, shoving a pillow in Johnny’s face. “Johnny, you’ll grow old with your soulmate and have way too many children to count. A baseball team of blonde haired rugrats. And if you don’t, your soulmate is talking about the dozen of cats that you own. Keep them safe and off the streets.”

“Prick.”

Peter knew before the letters changed that something was off. His stomach churned, and he felt off all night. He somehow blamed it on allergies, thinking that was messing up his senses – causing it to go off too early or on too late. Sometimes, it felt like it wasn’t even going off for him.

Sometime during the night, he felt his arm burn. It wasn’t a harsh burn, but steady and slow. Peter had to stop chasing a crook to find relief. He tried to rub it away, thinking it was a cramp before he rolled up his sleeve to see the pale lettering now bright red.

“No, no, no –“ Peter rolled down his sleeve, quickly leaping from the wall and frantically searching. He didn’t know where to go, he just needed to go. He needed to find them – _to save them_. This can’t be how it ends.

Peter always expected to hear the words – to be there with his soulmate on the day they say it.

This can’t be how they go.

Halfway across Manhattan his arm burned harder. Peter let go of his web and gasped in pain before quickly switching arms to catch himself. A few moments passed before the burn calmed back down to the dull burn and he continued on.

He reached 42nd Street before realizing it could have been Mary Jane. The sharp pain returned before turning back dull. He rubbed his arm, acknowledging the pain meant that they were – _she was_ – still fighting, there was still time. He turned around, Baxter Building in the distance before heading back north to find Mary Jane safe in her apartment.

By then, his arm no longer hurt.

The red had faded into black.

His chest heavy and empty at the same time.

And they were gone.

Peter didn’t have the chance to say goodbye.

He wasn’t even sure that he had the chance to say hello.

It wasn’t until a couple days later, after Peter learned Johnny had died in the Negative Zone, when it clicked.

He had the chance. He spent the last ten years laughing beside him. The first five trying to be better than him.

He spent the next week between crime scenes, too many late nights spent trying to fight out his anger. Fighting super-powered villains, fighting street gangs, fighting purse thefts … fighting the urge to truly consider what he had lost.

Or at least, he tried his best to.

He stayed out until the sun started to peak and his heart began to ache again. He found his way back to his apartment and to his bed where he collapsed in physical exhaustion, but his mind stayed restless, needing to find relief in his pain. 

Peter remembers when he saw Johnny again, like a breath a fresh air in the muck.

His fist covered in bug goo, expecting a horde ready to invade the ruins of the Baxter Building from the Negative Zone gate.

But instead, there was Johnny: glowing and alive.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his flames dying down. “Seriously, what are you wearing?”

“Reed and the kids … came up with new uniforms,” Peter said, cautiously approaching Johnny. He can’t be real … can he? He’s not supposed to be here.

He’s not supposed to be alive.

“Well, they’re hideous.”

“You’re dead,” Peter said, gently poking Johnny’s chest. “You died.”

“More than once,” Johnny shrugged, gently swatting away Peter’s finger. “Still better looking than you are.”

“Oh my god,” Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny’s torso, lifting him up into a hug. Johnny’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, gripping gently. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”

“Okay, okay,” Johnny gave a soft laugh. “Put me down.”

Peter set him down, his hands still lingered at his side as Johnny looked off to the distance.

“So … nice fireworks,” Johnny said, nodding toward the sky, full of destruction.

“Yeah. World ending. Kree invasion. You know the drill.”

“Yes. Yes, I certainly do. Here,” Johnny said, reaching out for Peter’s hand. He pressed a leather strip into his palm. “Hold my Annihilus. There’s something I need to do.”

Peter’s tunnel vision faded out, letting reality fade back in as he suddenly realizing Johnny had Annihilus on a leash and an army behind him.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, gripping the leather. “Yeah, sure pal.”

Johnny smiled before igniting and finding himself in the sky, scrawling out a Fantastic Four logo.

“You’re alive,” Peter said, once more to himself, feeling himself wash over with relief. He looked down at his arm, remembering the bright red letters, like fresh embers in a fire pit. Peter slowly rolled up his sleeve, biting his cheek when he still saw “ _afraid of that_ ” in black. He pushed his sleeve back down before glancing back at Johnny’s army – the Light Brigade as he now knows. He gave them a soft nod of acknowledgement before Johnny came back, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“End of the world,” Johnny said. “I leave for twenty minutes, and you guys can’t take care of Earth?”

“You left for more than twenty minutes,” Peter said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “More like thirty.”

“Forty tops.”

Peter pressed his lips together as he studied Johnny. He was here, alive and breathing. But Peter’s words told him he was dead. “You died,” Peter said, his voice low. “You said more than once?”

Johnny’s eyes never met Peter’s, his attention on the destruction of the city. He nodded. “More than once.”

“Twice?”

“More than twice,” Johnny said. “Peter, can we just –“

“Oh my – Johnny!”

Peter and Johnny barely had time to turn to Sue’s voice before Sue wrapped her arms around Johnny’s neck and buried her face into his shoulder. Reed, Captain America and Iron Man followed short behind her.

“Hi, sis,” Johnny said, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Nice of you to throw a welcome back party for me.”

“God,” Sue laughed. “You’re back. We thought you were … Annihilus, he --” There was a soft hitch in her voice as she tightened her grip on his shoulder. She exhaled and let go, leaning back to look at Johnny. “We thought you were dead, Johnny. If we knew you were alive –“

“I know you would,” Johnny said. “You did what’s best.”

“We would’ve came for you,” Sue finished. “We didn’t know –“

“You didn’t know,” Johnny repeated, pulling Sue into another hug. “That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“We’re glad your back, Johnny,” Reed said, reaching his arms around both Sue and Johnny.

“Sue, is that –“ Reed, Sue and Johnny pulled back from their hug as they heard Ben’s voice.

“The one and only,” Johnny grinned.

“Just look at you!” Ben said, ruffling Johnny’s hair. “You look older.”

“I am,” Johnny said. “Time flows differently in the Negative Zone. I don’t know how long I was gone here, but –“

“You were gone exactly two thousand, seven hundred and fifty-seven hours here,” Reed said. “So, just over two years in the Negative Zone. When we get through all this, I’m going to want to really check you out, Johnny.”

“Of course.”

Reed gestured toward Johnny’s arm – well, the _thing_ on Johnny’s arm. “Is that …?”

“Sure is,” Johnny nodded. “The Cosmic Control Rod is how I –“

Shivers went up Peter’s back. He hated how this felt. The last few months, it was like his spider-sense was broken. As if they were going off in a different direction or not for him. It had been this way ever since –

Annihilus lunged at Johnny, his chain slipping through Peter’s fingers.

“Give! Is mine!”

Before Peter could react, Ben kicked Annihilus, stopping him from attacking Johnny.

“Are we going to have a problem?” Johnny asked, kneeling down next to Annihilus. Annihilus hissed in response. “Because it isn’t like you and I are anywhere close to be finished.”

God. Peter was stupid.

His spider-sense has been off since the night Johnny died.

His spider-sense was off that night as it was warning him of Johnny’s dangers.

It was warning him for all the dangers in the negative zone.

Peter wasn’t sure if he’s ever had spider-sense gone off for anybody else but him – yet, here were the flashing lights warning him of Johnny’s imminent danger.

“Excuse me,” Kal Blackbane said, interrupting Captain America’s spiel. “There’s no need for all this … posturing. We are more than capable of handling the extraterrestrial threat.”

“Really? Just like that?” Captain America asked. “Do you have some way to lead your people to victory out there?”

“You misunderstand me, captain,” Kal said. “It is not I that leads here. It is he.”

Kal gestured to Johnny, standing tall in front of the Light Brigade.

“I believe the question was, how can I defeat a Kree armada … it’s simple: I have my own. The annihilation wave,” Johnny said. “Whoever holds the cosmic control rod rules the Negative Zone. As such, the wave is mine. I plan on putting it to good use. Protect the world, Avengers … Leave the Heavens to the Light Brigade.”

Peter wondered how much the Negative Zone had changed Johnny, how he seems much more mature – as if he’s changed … or if he truly who he says he is. Peter subconsciously ran his hand across his words as Johnny unleashed his annihilation wave. Maybe Peter should be more concerned if this was a shape shifter pretending to be Johnny.

“So,” Johnny said, turning back to the Fantastic Four, almost with a cheeky grin. “You guys want to see my battleship?”

Peter smirked as his worries disappeared.

Johnny was back.

\-----

After the Kree invasion retreated. After the summoning of Galactus and the arrival of the Mad Celestials. After Franklin and Valeria arrived from the future. After Future Franklin and Younger Franklin powered together to defeat the Mad Celestials …

Peter went home.

And Johnny went with him.

Peter didn’t mean to bring him home, he just … followed. A suggestion that went the wrong way, but Peter didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

Peter didn’t want to.

So they accommodated.

One bedroom apartment with a futon. Everything could work out.

That is, until Peter would get sick of Johnny.

But Peter wasn’t sure if he could even kick him out at this point. He’d threaten it, but there’s no part of him that would actually let go of Johnny – _not again_.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny finally asked one morning, setting breakfast on the table as Peter sat down in front of an empty plate, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Peter said, reaching for a piece of toast. “Nothing’s wrong. I mean, the AC is kind of going out, but I swear I’ll call an electrician … or I’ll find the manual somewhere to fix –“

“Not that,” Johnny said, walking back to the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice to set on the table. Peter didn’t realized they had orange juice. Johnny must have went grocery shopping. “I mean, ever since I got back, you’ve _look_ at me differently.”

“Looked at you differently _how_?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny said, leaning back on the counter arms crossed. Peter looked back at him, Johnny’s sight glued to the door. “As if I’m still dead or something.”

“Johnny –“

“If you feel bad or anything, just stop,” Johnny said. “I don’t need sympathy over it. It’s passed. I’ve moved on. Focusing on the present.”

Peter turned around in his chair, his heart suddenly very still. “Johnny –“

“I don’t need sympathy, okay?” Johnny snapped, keeping his attention away from Peter. “Sue gives me enough already.”

“Johnny, look at me.”

Johnny took his time. He hesitated, not sure what to expect, except empty sympathy. Poor Johnny. Died in the Negative Zone. Gone for two years.

What he didn’t expect was to see Peter’s forearm exposed to him, his words – _Johnny’s last words_ – in black.

“You died,” Peter said. “Johnny, you died and I felt it – I felt you –“

Johnny stepped forward, closing the gap between him and Peter. He reached out, his fingers gently brush against the words, black against Peter’s skin. “You felt me?”

“Burn,” Peter said. “It was hot and it hurt, but it was dull for the most part. Then it really burned for a minute before it went back to dull –“

“I went Nova,” Johnny said. “Twice.”

“I felt it. Both times,” Peter said. “Johnny, I – I lost my best friend. And all I could think about is how I missed you laughing and your dumb jokes and your smile and – you know how many times I watched your hologram –“

Johnny crashed his lips against Peter’s, a little too rough, but Peter didn’t care. He thought about this too often the last few months to care about any minor inconvenience. The stove could be on fire and he wouldn’t care.

He had Johnny again.

Peter’s hands found their way to Johnny’s hips, guiding him to sit on his lap. Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny’s waist, not ever wanting to let go.

“Hey, Pete?” Johnny said, pulling away from the kiss.

“Yeah, Johnny?”

“I promise to keep our baseball team of blonde haired rugrats safe,” Johnny smirked.

Peter laughed, burying his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck, pressing a soft kiss against his skin. “Or our dozen cats?”

“Or our dozen cats."


End file.
